


Rise and Fall

by raendown



Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26159485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: Freedom brings the answers to many questions. Karma brings rewards in many forms, impartial, implacable. One will rise and one will fall and all will find the places they were meant to be.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 8
Kudos: 133





	Rise and Fall

**Author's Note:**

> A direct sequel to [I Never Asked For My Pedestal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25258027)

Jealousy was not an emotion Tobirama was accustomed to. In his life there had never been much for him to be jealous of his neighbors over and he’d always been smart enough not to bother with such a useless emotion when it came to the upper classes. He would never have the riches and wonders they did and that was a fact of life. No use getting worked up about it. His energy had always been better spent working hard to provide the best life possible for his only little brother. 

Now there was a third body to care for in their household and while he certainly didn’t mind working hard on Madara’s behalf - especially after all the younger man had gone through - it rankled in an unexpectedly dark way just how easily his friend fell in with his brother. It felt almost as though they had been made for each other, what with how well they got along and how quickly they adjusted to each other, and Tobirama did not enjoy the way that made him feel. He should have been nothing but happy for both of them. For the one who had never had freedom or friends before, for the brother he worked so hard to protect from all the bad things in life. Knowing the jealousy in his own heart and the quiet desire to insert himself between them made him feel like a terrible human being unworthy of either man.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t enjoying having Madara come to live with them. Seeing the wonder in those beautiful eyes as they took in the organized chaos of village life was worth more than all the money in the royal castle looking over their little settlement. There were difficulties, of course, as there would be with any massive life adjustment. It took several weeks before Madara stopped looking over his shoulder every five minutes to check for the witch who had stolen the first two decades of his life. But no matter how often he winced at the loud noises of a busy market or shied away from horses that turned out so much bigger than he always imagined them, it was all outweighed by his lust for discovering all the parts of life he had missed out on for so long. The memory of his smile the day he pet a real cat for the very first time was enough to make Tobirama’s steps fall lightly for well over a week. 

“What are you thinking so hard about?” 

Startled out of his thoughts, Tobirama lifted his head to realize that he’d been sitting at the kitchen table and staring out the window for so long someone had taken his morning dishes away and cleaned them all without his notice. 

“Nothing really,” he murmured. 

“That’s quite a serious expression for thinking about nothing,” Madara noted. He was wearing an amused smile when he came around in to view.

“I’ve been told I always look serious.”

With a roll of his eyes Madara gently kicked the leg of his chair until Tobirama scooted it backwards far enough for a second body to fit itself over his lap. “Not to me, you don’t. You smile for me. Sometimes.” 

Accepting the teasing as well deserved, Tobirama turned the corners of his mouth down in an exaggerated scowl. It didn’t last long. Madara had only to lean down and bless him with a single gentle kiss and the scowl fell helplessly away. He already knew how silly it was to feel so jealous over the easy friendship blossoming between the man he loved and the man he raised but it was moments like this, moments when Madara thoughtlessly doled out such tender affections, that Tobirama felt twice as silly for his unnecessary worrying. 

“It’s you who will be smiling today,” he declared in a threatening tone, knowing his smile took away any possible sharp edges. “King Izuna doesn’t come home very often anymore, it’s usually a steward in charge these days. I think you’ll enjoy seeing all the fancy people dressed up in their finery.”

“Don’t you usually call it frippery?” Hashirama asked as he popped in to the room, blatantly ignoring the blush on both of their faces to be caught in such an intimate position together. 

“What’s frippery?” Madara asked quickly.

“Oh Anija calls all fancy clothes ‘frippery’ because he says they’re all so impractical.” 

Tobirama snorted. “They are. Rich folk always wear such impractical clothing that impedes their movements. Probably just to make the point that they don’t _need_ to have good movement. None of them have ever done a hard day’s work in their life. Don’t need to. They’ve got their money to work for them.”

“Is this king guy so important?”

Both of the brothers paused to blink at Madara for several seconds, taking in the idea that he could be entirely ignorant of how the caste system worked and why the King was indeed a very important man. Important enough that very few dared to approach him on the rare occasion he returned to the capitol city. If not for the single mile of road between them, their little village would have been a part of the capitol city - but that would have brought the stench of poverty closer to the upturned noses of the rich and powerful folk all huddled in their mansions at the base of the castle. 

“He’s powerful,” Tobirama grumbled. “And that makes him important enough to take our heads off without repercussion if he takes offense to something we do. Rule number one of living in the real world: never pick a fight with someone who has more money than you do. Even if they can’t hurt you themselves there will always be someone willing to do it for pay.”

“Oh. Well that’s stupid.”

Such a succinct and perfect description of how the world worked sent both brothers in to stitches of laughter that Madara clearly didn’t entirely understand, though he seemed happy enough to have amused them anyway. When he was able to breathe again Tobirama discreetly patted the man on one leg. 

“If rumor from the outskirts is correct then you’ll get to enjoy an entire parade of stupidity this morning. Word always travels faster than a royal convoy. There’s so many of them trying to keep up with each other that it makes them three times as slow as a couple of peasants scurrying ahead.” He tried not to look too obviously bereft when Madara squirming off his lap. “Shall we all dress in our worst clothing and go show the highborns just how important we think they are?” 

Listening to a lecture on propriety from his younger brother was worth the sweet laughter he earned from Madara’s lips. 

Setting aside the instinctual possessiveness that gripped him, Tobirama was actually happy to let the other two dash off together to entertain themselves while he busied himself with his share of the chores for the day. If they meant to waste time standing around in the market just to watch some high born nobles walk past in their frivolous jewels and finery then he would need to take care of everything else early. There was no telling how long it would take him to herd his brother back home afterwards. Hashirama, at least, did not have a job taking up large portions of his time most days. He could catch up on any missed chores whenever he liked. 

Thankfully there was just enough time to get everything done before Hashirama started getting restless and Tobirama agreed with a sigh that they could all go to the market now. A little waiting around wouldn’t kill any of them. Hunting had taught him the value of patience years ago - not to mention the trials of raising someone with Hashirama’s energy levels all by himself. 

As soon as his brother had finished tutting at him for not bothering to change his clothing in to anything better than his usual plain outfit the three of them headed out, flocking off down the street with clouds of dust rising beneath their feet and wonder in their eyes. Well, there was definitely wonder in Madara’s eyes. Though he had already been to the market twice before he had been exposed to so little that there were just too many details of village life to be taken in after only one or two trips around the settlement. So many things that everyone else took for granted Madara found utterly fascinating. Considering this habit, it turned out to be a good thing they left so early. It gave Madara time to stop and ask a thousand questions about things that, until a year ago, Tobirama would have called someone silly for asking questions about. 

He had only just finished describing why one of the hawkers was able to sell his wares for a much higher price than another selling almost the exact same goods when the air was split by the sound of brass horns. All three of them winced, Hashirama recovering quickly and bouncing excitedly on his tip toes. 

“Ooh, they’re here! The King is here! Come on you guys!” 

With that he took off and Tobirama had just enough time to snag a corner of his sleeve with one hand and take hold of Madara with the other hand before they were all being dragged through the crowds in a line of fumbling steps. If he didn’t love his brother as much as he did Tobirama would have rolled his eyes to be pulled about in such a childish manner but it had been many years since he accepted the soft spot in his heart named Hashirama. 

It took a bit of polite maneuvering but they were able to make their way through the gathering crowds to stand right out front, close enough to reach out and brush the withers of each horse passing them by, an entire procession of guards all dressed up in their neat clean uniforms. Tobirama eyed them all with a deep skepticism that they had ever actually been engaged in a real fight. Violence tended to end with messy clothes. Not a single one of the people in this procession looked as though they had ever come in to contact with dirt in their entire lives, let alone rolled about on the ground in a desperate duel to the death. 

Not, of course, that he was speaking from any sort of experience. Or at least not when Hashirama was still within hearing range. 

Although the procession probably wasn’t intended to be a parade there were still quite a few people lining the streets to watch their so called betters go by and call their greetings to the one who ruled them. Pennants snapped, handkerchiefs waves, and if one squinted one almost might think there was some kind of festivity in the air. The King was perhaps not the best at relating to his lower subjects and spent much of his time away from home on a quest not even rumor understood but he was fair in his laws and lenient in his taxes. Horror stories of how poorly the people of other lands were treated made them grateful to have the ruler they did. Life could be much worse for people in their lot. 

“Look!” Hashirama pulled on his sleeve, turned to look at him, then reached past to pull on Madara’s clothes instead. “It’s him! That’s the king! Isn’t he impressive?” 

While that wasn’t the word that came to Tobirama’s mind, he was fine with indulging the other two as they both pushed themselves up on to their toes to see farther down the street where the pattern of guards travelling in pairs was broken by a single man wearing finery that outshined all the rest by miles. Even his horse was decked out in royal tack just in case one missed the proud seat of its rider. The whole display was topped, of course, by the golden crown sitting delicately atop the king’s head where it reflected the midday sunlight out across all of his poor and undeserving subjects. 

“Huh.” Falling flat on his feet again, Madara scratched at the side of his jaw with a thoughtful expression. “He just looks like...a person. I thought, I dunno, maybe he’d look different. You know, because he’s got noble blood or whatever.” 

“That doesn’t make him another species,” Tobirama pointed out with a smile. He was utterly enchanted to see the other blush. 

“Shut up! Like I’m supposed to know!” 

With the sounds of the gathered villagers all making their own cacophony around them, neither heard when Hashirama gave a quiet whine and whispered, “Guys...?”

Instead they began to gently shove each other and bicker between themselves as they did when they were comfortable at home. When Madara smiled at him that way Tobirama was rather prone to forgetting anything about the world around him, too wrapped up in the beating of his own heart. He watched the inelegant laughter he had fallen so deeply in love with and, caught up as he was, entirely missed his brother’s attempts to gain their attention. Neither of them noticed the hushing of the crowd or the slow quiet that fell around them until it was almost absolute and at last Hashirama grew desperate enough to tug harshly on the back of his shirt. 

“Guys!” he hissed. “Look!” 

So look they did. They looked up to find the king of their land standing over them, reins held tightly to keep his horse in place as he stared down at two of his subjects with narrowed eyes. The crown upon his head caught the light to make a halo around him and yet for a single wild instant Tobirama looked up and could only think that his king would never be as beautiful as the man at his side no matter how many silks he draped himself in. Only after that thought had made its passing did it occur to him to be terrified. The most powerful man in the entire kingdom was glaring down at them and he had no idea what they might have done to earn such a man’s attention, let alone his ire. Their happy bickering couldn’t have been that loud, could it?

The gathered crowds looked on and the uniformed guards stood in complete stillness, the breeze itself hardly daring to blow as the seconds ticked by. Madara, on the other hand, did not seem to understand the gravity of just whose attention he was now the focus of. With a wrinkled nose he lifted his chin to stare directly back in to the king’s eyes. 

“What are you looking at me for?” he demanded to the shock and horror of their onlookers. Several of the guards moved as though they intended to dismount and show this peasant the meaning of true respect - but the king held up a hand towards them. 

“Hold,” he ordered them without taking his eyes off of Madara. “Identify yourself.” 

“Me? Uh, my name is Madara.”

Something about that answer was shocking enough that the King swayed upon his horse, though for the life of him Tobirama couldn’t see what. It was a nice name, sure, but it was nothing more than a single word with no power. Yet a moment later this auspicious man was swinging a leg over his horse and dropping to the ground.

Before he had time to process what he was even doing Tobirama had stepped in front of his partner to put himself bodily between Madara and the king, who paused in his movements to blink at him incredulously. If there had been a mirror handy Tobirama might have looked at himself with just as much incredulity but now that he was here he refused to move. Of everyone he had ever loved he had only two left and he had promised to protect both with his life. That was not a promise he was willing to renege on. Not for anyone. 

“Step aside,” the king demanded. 

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Tobirama growled. He had no idea where such courage had come from, taking that tone with royalty, but thankfully the words themselves seemed more important than how he said them. 

“No, I have no plans to harm him. Now _step aside_.”

Tobirama eyed the man and wondered why he was so inclined to distrust someone just because of the clothes they wore. His brother was the eternal optimist, not him. Growing up poor meant that most of his interactions with the upper classes weren’t all that positive. He was more used to being looked down upon, spoken down to, and being made to feel as though his existence were lesser, than he was to giving anyone with money the benefit of the doubt. That was a lesson he’d learned very young. Now here stood the king himself asking for trust; it was more than Tobirama had to give. 

At the same time he knew exactly what the many guards watching them would do if he failed to comply. The quickest way to get dead was to insult their ruler. After a long pause of staring in to each other’s eyes Tobirama stepped aside but he did so with a frown still hanging heavy across his brow, doing what he could to obey and defy at the same time in a perfect balance. He would step aside and allow this man to speak with Madara - but if he made a single move to hurt even one hair on the man’s head Tobirama would act. None of the guards had followed. He could do a lot of damage before anyone came to the king’s rescue if he needed to. 

What was his own life worth if he did not have his precious people to protect?

Forcing his weight to shift, he moved a single step to the left so that the two men could see each other and ignored the pull of Hashirama’s fingers nervously clutching at his shirt again. The moment he was out of the way it was as though King Izuna forgot he was there entirely. All of his attention was riveted on Madara’s face. 

“And where do you hail from...Madara?” he asked. Tobirama dug his fingernails in to his palms as he told himself not to be jealous until there was reason to defend his claim.

“I don’t know,” was Madara’s honest answer. 

“How does one not know where one is from? Where were you born?” 

Frustrated, Madara cocked a single eyebrow. “I don’t know where I’m from because I don’t know where I was born. It’s not that hard.”

“Oh? You must have been raised somewhere, then.” 

“Yeah, in a tower against my will,” he answered dryly. “I haven’t exactly seen much of the world.”

Somehow that appeared to be the answer the king was waiting for. Without warning his entire stance changed. Rigid muscles loosened, kohl-lined eyes began to water, and where once a king had stood there suddenly seemed to be only a human fallen victim to his own emotions. 

“Then it really is you. It has to be. The name, that face, just the right age- I- it’s you. After all this time…”

“I, uh, I’ve always been me?” Madara pointed out uncertainly. He looked to Tobirama in question but unfortunately he had no answers to give. Both of them watched their king dab at his eyes and reach out with a shaking hand only to snatch it back. Such odd behaviour from a man who only moments ago had stood straight and proud as though he expected the very trees around them to bow. When he spoke again his voice trembled with something unidentifiable. 

“For twenty years I have scoured this country and those beyond and yet here I find you safe and sound right under my own nose!” 

Madara balked. “Why would you be looking for me? You don’t even know me!” 

“I think,” the king said, “that I would know my own brother.”

The market street exploded with noise as the gathered crowds began to whisper and gossip. Reeling as he struggled to process what he’d just heard, Tobirama noted distantly that several of the guardsmen looked happy, relieved, even joyous. In contrast, he and Hashirama could do little more than stare in confusion while Madara himself made shapes as though trying to speak while nothing came out. When the king reached out once more he yelped to have his fingers batted away. 

“Look, I don’t know what the hell you’re on but I really doubt I’m the brother of any king,” Madara grumbled. 

“Your confusion is understandable, of course. Come, I will explain everything once I see you safely home.” 

“I am home.” 

Confusion held his body stiff but the feeling of Madara’s fingers reaching for his own sent a flood of pride rushing through his veins that nearly melted Tobirama on the spot. It was all he could do not to push out his chest like a peacock and begin strutting up and down in front of the king himself. Never in his life had he felt so important, so loved, so special. 

And it was obvious that never in his majesty’s life had King Izuna been rejected so easily in favor of what he probably thought of as a lesser existence. The way his jaw hung loose was far from the stoic image he so easily presented from high up on his perfectly groomed horse; Tobirama would have gone so far as to call the expression comical, although probably not while any of the royal guards were listening. It took several moments for the man to collect himself and when he did the struggle of composing his words as a request rather than a demand was clear in every line of his face. 

“Please come with me to the palace. I will explain everything once we’re comfortable.” His jaw snapped shut as soon as the words were out but the look in his eyes was soft, almost desperate. 

“I’m already comfortable right here,” Madara grumbled, “but sure. They can come too, right? I won’t go anywhere they can’t follow.” 

Though it visibly disappointed him to agree the king did so readily and Tobirama told himself that now was not the time to look as incredibly smug as he felt. He reached behind himself to take hold of his brother’s arm mere moments before it hit the younger man that they were going to see inside the royal palace at the personal invitation of the king himself. Only the tight grip of an elder sibling kept him from leaping about like a child. 

“Have you your own horses?” King Izuna asked them. 

“We’re poor,” Madara replied in a flat voice. “We can barely afford food some days; no we don’t have horses.” 

“I see. You there! And you! Give these men your mounts. A single mile’s walk should be no strain on true knights of the realm.”

Whether he guessed that they would only need two horses for three men or if he had some other obscure reason for giving them two, it was really for the best. Living in a tower for most of his life, there was no way Madara could have even pretended to know how to ride a horse. Tobirama could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on them as he quickly explained to his partner how to use the stirrup to mount and helped as best he could before swinging up in to the saddle as well. In the corner of his eye he could see Hashirama already seated and bent forward to stroke his own horse’s mane, murmuring praises for what a pretty mare she was. 

Once he was sure neither he nor his partner would fall off he clicked his tongue to send their mount plodding forward without waiting to be told to do so, hiding his smile in the back of Madara’s shoulder when he heard the king scramble to get the procession going while making it seem like he wasn’t irritated to have someone move without his orders. It was probably one of the first times anyone had so much as dared to breathe without his permission. 

The journey was a short one but filled with many wonders that even the Senju brothers had never had a chance to see, not having had any sort of excuse to make their way in to the capital proper before. Men and women of the upper class watched the procession go by with the empty smiles of those who had never known a hard day’s work and not one of them seemed to notice the three peasant villagers riding close to the king. As always, their plain clothing made them all but invisible. Interesting as it was to finally see what a clean and well kept town looked like, it was still a relief of sorts to finally pass through the gate in to the palace courtyard - but of course that only brought them somewhere else that made Tobirama’s hackles lift as he swung out of the saddle and turned to help his partner down. 

Considering how many people there were in their gaudy procession he had expected they would have to linger outside for some time or go through some other pompous nonsense of a ceremony before making their way inside. It was a relief to have the king sweep past them after dismounting his own horse and direct them to follow with the absent wave of a man used to having others hang on his beck and call. Were it not for the fingers that automatically sought his own Tobirama would have held his ground out of sheer spite - but this was for Madara. They had come here for Madara to find answers to questions he had all but given up on. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn and leave this place, to march his way back to the home he had grown up in where things were simple and no one expected him to be more than he was; he put one foot in front of the other anyway. For Madara he would walk straight in to hell and sing with every step of the way.

As it turned out, hell was actually quite beautiful. In the rare moments Tobirama was able to tear his eyes away from the portraits and brightly polished suits of armor and the carpets so fine they gave the impression of walking on air he found himself mesmerized by the quality of the building itself. Cool marble and limestone perfectly disguised the rough stone he was sure made up the main structure underneath, a beautiful veneer over an unsightly necessity. It rather reminded him of the pretty capital town walled off from the farmers and peasant workers in the village below. 

The room where they ended up would have been called a living room if it weren’t so utterly fancy. Tobirama was sure the lush furniture and expensive decor meant that it had some other name he wouldn’t know. Having expected to be led straight to the throne room, all three of them hovered just inside the doorway for several moments as they tried to figure out what they were allowed to touch. 

“Do come in,” King Izuna urged them. 

“Won’t we make things dirty if we do?” Hashirama asked, smiling tentatively, clearly nervous to directly address royalty. 

“Not a problem. I’ll have my staff clean it.” 

With a light shrug the king swept an arm inviting them in once more and Hashirama was the first to step forward. Curiosity shone brightly in his eyes as he shuffled towards the closest chair and ran his fingers over the soft velvet several times before ever so carefully lowering himself on to the very edge of the cushion. In contrast, Madara stumped his way across the room and flopped down on to a small couch without a single care for how expensive it might be. Tobirama followed him, of course, sitting close to his side while trying not to be too obvious when the sheer comfort of their perch all but took his breath away.

For nearly a full minute the four of them all sat in complete silence. Hashirama melted in to his seat, entirely oblivious of the way the rest of them were staring across the room at each other while they tried to figure out what to say.

Eventually one of them had to break the silence. Madara got fed up with it first. 

“So what makes you think I’m your brother?” he asked. 

“I knew it the moment I saw you,” the king told him. “The royal Uchiha line has always been blessed with rather distinctive features.”

“Alright, I look like someone you know. That’s not exactly definitive proof. Even from the little I’ve seen I can tell there are millions of different faces out there, some of them are bound to end up looking similar.”

“Very sound reasoning,” Tobirama praised him under his breath, proud of his partner for not taking things at face value. Learning to question the world around you, the offers being held out in front of you, was an important skill to master if one wanted to survive for any significant length of time. In his experience the world had no patience for naivety. 

Clearly the king had no patience for explaining himself. Keeping his temper took visible effort as he huffed and searched for words. 

“There’s just too many things that fall in to place to call them all coincidence,” he said. “You don’t know who you are or where you come from, which would explain why you never made your way home; you look to be exactly the right age; from what you said in the market I gather that you were raised in captivity, which would make a great deal of sense considering my brother was stolen from his cradle by a vile witch with a grudge against our father. All of that on top of the fact that you are a mirror image of every royal portrait in the main hall?”

Madara took a deep breath, his fingers gripping the edge of his cushion so tightly the material looked ready to tear. “Right. Yeah. That does all add up, I guess. The witch’s name, what was it? Who supposedly took your brother.”

“Kaguya,” the king hissed. 

“That’s her.” Madara’s grip only tightened impossibly as he failed to draw his next breath. “She locked me in a tower and never let me out so she could always use my...use me for…”

He turned away with shadows falling over his eyes in a look that Tobirama hadn’t seen since the day they first met; distrust. It was hard to blame him for being cautious with such an incredible secret. They may have cut Madara’s fantastical hair to a more semi-reasonable length but that did not erase the mysterious powers he had been blessed with, only dimmed them. Unless somehow he found himself stripped of this power to heal there would always be a chance that others would try to take advantage of them. 

By some power of fate the king seemed to understand that this was not a subject that should be pushed. It could not be often that information was withheld from him but thankfully, after a moment of thoughtful staring, he let the matter slide without asking about it further. Whether that was out of the goodness of his heart or due to the high of being reunited with a long lost sibling was hard to say. Or, Tobirama realized with a start, it was possible that he already knew what secret was being withheld. Madara’s powers had to have come from somewhere, after all. He’d been raised to believe he was born with them and if that were the case then surely his own supposed brother would know of them. That would have been something hard to miss.

“If the one who held you was Kaguya then there really can be no doubt. You _are_ my brother. You are Uchiha Madara, the lost heir to the throne of Konoha.” The king stood from his seat only to pause, both hands dangling awkwardly in the air where he so obviously wanted to reach out, held in place through sheer force of will as they all watched for Madara’s reaction. 

The waiting wasn’t as painful as it could have been, all of them caught up in trying to work through their own emotions. Shock for the most part, of course, though Tobirama did his best not to acknowledge the undercurrent of fear that lanced through him. He had only freed Madara a measly few months ago. Their time together - truly being together - had been so short. While he didn’t doubt the truth of his partner’s feelings for him he couldn’t help but fear losing the man to the distance that was about to grow between them. He couldn’t help but wonder if his love was enough to keep Madara tethered to someone who had little more than a heart to give. 

After all, what did he have to give that a king did not? There weren’t many in the world who would turn down the chance to live a better, easier life if one was offered. As far back as his memory reached Madara had been without answers about who he was or what sort of family he’d been stolen away from and now here was everything he’d ever wanted being handed to him on a silver platter. Literally. But this life was his and his alone. Neither Tobirama or Hashirama had any right to intrude upon the business of royalty. Just the thought of how this precious addition to their own family was bound to slip away from them bit by bit put such a knot in Tobirama’s stomach he worried for a moment that he might bring up his meager breakfast on to the very expensive carpet under their feet. 

“What if I don’t want to be a prince?” Madara asked suddenly. For a heartbeat no one in the room could do anything but gape at him. 

“But...who doesn’t want to be a prince?” the king demanded. 

“Yeah!” Hashirama clasped both hands under his chin and sighed. “Just think about how wonderful it could be! Clean clothing, soft beds, all the pretty nobles with their pretty conversation! Oh - and food! Imagine being able to eat whatever you want whenever you want it! Never going hungry again, doesn’t that sound amazing?”

Madara chewed at his bottom lip. “I guess so.” 

“This is your birthright, your destiny. I have spent two decades chasing the faintest rumors from one end of this kingdom to another looking for you. Now you can finally make a home here with me as you were always meant to.” King Izuna drew himself up with renewed confidence and stepped across to take Madara’s hands boldly in to his own, his eyes imploring the other to see sense. He probably expected something more than the wary expression that stared back up at him.

“It’s not that I don’t want to know you. And it’s not that all this doesn’t sound really amazing. I just don’t think I’m cut out for all of it. Being raised alone in a couple of small rooms didn’t really prepare me for royal duties or public functions, you know?” Madara caught his lip again and chewed harder, slowly and with visible reluctance pulling his hands away. “Maybe you could just visit?” 

“Visit?” the king repeated him incredulously. 

“Yeah. I have...they’ve already given me a good life and it’s not like I’d be very far away. When Tobirama freed me-”

Whatever he meant to say next was lost in the king’s overly dramatic gasp and the muted thump of his knees hitting the carpet. “So it is you I have to thank for returning my brother to me! Any reward that is in my power is yours to ask!” 

Tobirama stared back at him and tried to imagine how he would explain that what he wanted was not, in fact, in the king’s power to give. That honor belonged to another. Neither was he very interested in asking anything of the man who wanted to sweep in to their lives and take away one of the only two people left on this earth who Tobirama loved with all his heart.

“No one’s returning me anywhere,” Madara growled with obvious exasperation. “He found me and he freed me but it’s always been _my_ choice where I go, Tobirama made that very clear. Yes he offered me a home but he never once assumed that I would accept or tried to force me in to doing so. Maybe you’re my brother, maybe you’re not, maybe you could tell me about who my family is and why I was taken away from them. But so far you’ve done nothing but assume that I want to uproot myself again to come stay with you and you haven’t even given me one good reason not to just take my answers and leave!” 

As terrifying as it was knowing that a king’s displeasure could be fatal it was also incredibly satisfying to watch that royal jaw drop open in a common gawk. He recovered quickly though, to his credit. 

“Perhaps you’re right. I may have come across as...a little overbearing.”

“Just a little?” Tobirama grumbled under his breath. 

“I beg of you to understand what it is like to find the one you’ve spent twenty years searching for. Of course if it is not your will to come live in the palace I will understand. To be perfectly clear, I have no intentions of forcing you to go anywhere, to do anything. Finding you…” King Izuna regained his feet and took a steadying breath before finishing his sentence. “Finding you is enough; knowing that you are alive and healthy and loved, that is closure enough to let me be at peace.” 

“Right. Good then. I’ve had enough of being forced to do things,” Madara said.

The king nodded slowly, hesitating. After a moment he whispered, “You cannot know how I have missed you.” 

“Wasn’t I stolen when I was a baby?” 

“Yes, that is true, but you were the first brother I ever had. I loved you from the moment you were placed in my arms, a perfect reflection of our mother.”

Across the room Hashirama sat forward. “The first brother? Do you have more brothers?”

None of them were prepared for tears to appear in the king’s eyes but they were gone again as soon as they came, dashed away with a wipe of the hand so casual one might almost be tempted to question what one saw. Izuna glanced back at the younger man he had clearly forgotten was there before returning his gaze to Madara. 

“Mother blessed us with three more brothers, three new hopes for the kingdom. None of them made it past childhood. The sickness…” He turned his head away and closed his eyes. 

“Probably the same sickness that took our brothers too,” Hashirama sympathized. 

“Ah. My condolences.” 

While his sibling tittered over the novelty of having royal condolences Tobirama subtly leaned his weight closer to the man at his side, curious to know how this latest revelation was sinking in. To his relief it didn’t appear to have had much effect. Until today Madara had never met any of his family and he wasn’t the type to mourn for brothers he’d never even had a chance to know. At the moment he seemed more concerned with the possible-sibling that was still alive - if maybe a little too pushy for a first meeting. Still, there was nearly a full minute of silence while Madara processed what could have been. Life for him could have turned out so very differently were he not taken away as a small babe and denied the family that clearly would have loved him very deeply. 

During the lull in conversation King Izuna finally took the hint to move back across the room to his own seat and, although he could not have been more obvious about his reluctance to put distance between them, he managed to settle himself without complaint. Tobirama mentally gave him a few brownie points for that much. He might not be used to having his desires go unfulfilled but when asked to back down he had. Underneath the veneer of a pampered royal there may just be the heart of a good man. Possibly. Tobirama still didn’t like him very much, although he was self aware enough to admit that probably had more to do with lingering traces of jealousy more than anything else. He’d gotten pretty used to being half of Madara’s entire world. 

The moment King Izuna grew tired of waiting was marked by a rather ignoble bout of squirming before he finally decided to break the silence himself. 

“I imagine you have as many questions for me as I have for you. If you will share it with me, I would like to know every detail of your story. Will you at least consent to staying the night here? Your rooms have been kept ready for the day you finally return.” 

“Rooms? Plural?” 

“Of course, a prince should have nothing less!” 

He didn’t seem to understand why the three of them were staring at him with wide eyes. So much space for just one person was incredibly wasteful. Just the fact that Tobirama and Hashirama did not share a bedroom was considered luxurious in the little village where they lived, made possible only by the absence of the family members they had lost years before. Madara let out a low whistle denoting how impressed he was by the idea. Then he narrowed his eyes with thought. 

“Does that invitation include all three of us?” he asked bluntly. King Izuna looked between the two Senju as if the thought simply hadn’t occurred to him. 

“If you wish it to; I’ll have two of the guest apartments set up.”

“No, just one is good.” Madara rather pointedly leaned in to Tobirama’s side. 

The king’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. His jaw worked soundlessly for some time as he quite obviously had several thoughts about that but thankfully - for him - he decided in the end to keep such thoughts to himself. Tobirama turned his head away to hide the tiny smile of triumph that lifted the corners of his mouth. All of his worrying had been for naught, apparently. It was nice to know where Madara’s loyalties were even if he felt a little silly now for questioning them. 

Of course, just because they had agreed to stay the night that didn’t mean they were all prepared to retire just then. It was still only barely past midday and both Madara and the king were still reeling from discovering the tattered fragments of a family long thought lost to them. Considering how long they had been apart it was only natural that they should want to spend some time in each others’ company before parting again, even if only for a few hours of sleep. Madara listened rapturously as each of the people he’d never had a chance to know was described in lurid detail and asked endless questions about the most benign things. He wanted to know their favorite foods, their favorite colors, if they had loved swordplay or art or music, if they had thought about him after he was gone. To know that his mother had wept for him until the day she passed was a heavy weight he didn’t seem to know how to bear. It was a terrible thing to think of anyone suffering like that but he’d never met her himself. Her image was nothing more than a tenuous construction in his own mind built upon clues from one man’s description. 

In return for the answers he provided King Izuna asked almost as many questions of his own. Not a single detail of Madara’s poor beginnings went undescribed. By some unspoken agreement they skirted around the issue of the witch Kaguya for the time being to focus instead on the task of learning all they could about each other. When night lay heavy over the world outside the window Tobirama felt as though he’d known them both for a lifetime just from listening in, though he’d done what he could to keep his own brother entertained whenever Hashirama seemed in need of distraction, so full of energy it simply wasn’t in him to sit quiet and listen for half a day. 

When they all retired for the night King Izuna personally led them to the places where they were to sleep. As promised, instead of a room to themselves they were granted entire sets of apartments full of more lavish furniture than any of them could have imagined. Hashirama teared up upon being shown his own accommodations and the sight of such a reaction forced Madara to explain to King Izuna what sort of living situation the lower classes generally suffered through. The horror his descriptions elicited were as amusing as they were saddening. 

The rich never did pay very much attention to the poor. 

Finally he showed Madara to the rooms that were rightfully his, both of them rather pointedly ignoring the empty bassinet enshrined in the receiving room. It didn’t take a genius to guess who the elaborate basket had once held or why it should be displayed in such an ostentatious manner. The pain on his face was badly concealed as he bid the two of them goodnight and closed the door, leaving them alone to explore the rest of their temporary space.

“Are you alright?” Tobirama asked quietly, watching his partner trace the edge of the luxurious furniture with barely a fingertip. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. This is a bit...overwhelming...but I think it’s sinking in.”

“I’m here if you need me.”

Madara turned to bless him with a light smile. “You always are,” he said. 

Then he turned back to inspecting the room as though trying to accept the fact that technically everything in here belonged to him. Neither of them spoke until he had gone through each of the rooms at a stately place, inspecting every drape and vase and cushion. Their impromptu inspection ended in the bedroom where they found themselves standing outside on an elegant balcony roughly the size of their living room back home. Stars glittered above them in stately reflection of the myriad lights still shining throughout the town spread out below. Farther out they could see the faint glow of their own humble village.

“When I was a kid I used to try and imagine where I was born,” Madara told him suddenly, his eyes distant where they traced the shapes of the capitol city. “I’d make up images of what my family might look like and who they were, carpenters or gentlefolk or maybe adventurous merchants who travelled so many places in the world that they were just too busy to find me. But…”

“But?” Tobirama encouraged him when the pause drew out unbearably. He wasn’t prepared for the warmth that spread through his chest when his partner turned to him with something deep and irrevocable in his eyes. 

“Then you came along and I didn’t wonder anymore. What did I care for a family who I might never meet? For all I knew they might have abandoned me to the witch but you found me, you came back for me, you gave me a taste of all the things that I could have.”

“I don’t know that I did all that much,” Tobirama protested. “You were the one who had the courage to leave.” 

Madara reached out to tug playfully on a lock of his short, messy hair. “Being a prince might be nice and all, it sounds really easy, but it wouldn’t be worth it if I couldn’t keep you. Izuna is the family I always wanted. He’s great. I’ve only known him for a day and I already know we could grow very close if I stayed. But after all this time-...I’ve already found a family. Maybe not the one I was born to; that doesn’t make me love you any less, or Hashirama for that matter. You are more precious to me than any jewel or crown that Izuna could ever offer.” 

Since there wasn’t much Tobirama could think of to say to that he opted not to say anything at all. It was just as well. There seemed to be an odd sort of lump in his throat that surely would have made speaking difficult. When they crawled in to the bed together that night he made sure to hold his beloved partner close, silently making all sorts of threats to whatever gods were listening on the off chance they got any ideas about sending Madara anything but the most pleasant of dreams. 

Whether those dreams were nice or not, however, mattered very little when they were awakened in the dead of night by the clanging of bells, voices shouting in the distance from several directions. Tobirama and Madara clawed their way out from under a frankly excessive amount of blankets and hurried through the apartments to look out in to the hallway. Soldiers in gleaming armor streamed through the passages with grim faces behind their visors and weapons drawn, sabaton clattering as though to add their own ringing to the symphony of bells. Izuna’s door gaped open down the hall and the king himself stood framed between luxury and duty as he barked a set of rapid commands to someone whose armor looked somehow more official than the rest. 

After sharing a look containing an entire conversation, Tobirama led Madara out to dodge the hurrying soldiers until they reached King Izuna’s side. 

“You should go back to your rooms, little brother,” the man told them before they had a chance to say anything. “I’ll double the guard on your quarters; you should be safe there.”

“From what?” Madara demanded. 

“I will _not_ lose you again. Not to her. Not to anything.” 

The steel in his tone was nearly as surprising as the voice that rose above the calamity around them, at once both repulsive and so very beautiful. Madara’s spine went entirely rigid at the sound of cackling laughter. 

“ **Bring him to me!** ” the voice called. “ **I will have him again if I must tear him from the wreckage of this city!** ” 

“Kaguya,” Tobirama snarled. He may have only heard that voice twice in his life but it was not the sort of voice one easily forgot. “How did she-?”

“Gossip travels fast,” Hashirama reminded them, springing around the corner. He went straight to his friend’s side and gave Madara the most reassuring smile he could muster. 

In the distance there came a terrible rumbling and the ground shuddered under their feet. When Madara shivered Tobirama put an arm around him, looking to their monarch with furrowed brows. “She’s inside the castle?” 

“Not yet. I’m told she appeared at the gates as if out of thin air and demanded we turn over ‘what belongs to her’. When my men denied her she flew in to a rage. I’ve spent most of my life gathering every scrap of information on her that I could, however, and I have every confidence that we can repel her. You should be safe here, little brother.” 

Tobirama snorted quietly when he felt Madara twitch at being addressed like that. The first time slid by in the panic but it seemed King Izuna was the type to press his luck. Now was not the time to talk about it, however, and Madara was smart enough not to make a scene with more important things going on around them. The very idea of falling back in to Kaguya’s clutches had set his limbs to trembling ever so faintly, not enough to be visible but Tobirama could feel it in the spaces they were pressed together and for a ridiculous moment he cursed himself for not being born with any sort of magical abilities that might now protect his most precious person. 

Another detachment of guards went clanking by as the floor rumbled a second time. Madara opened his mouth to say something only to snap it closed with a violent flinch when that syrupy repulsive voice broadcast itself throughout the entire castle once more. 

“ **Show yourself! Deliver me the one that I want or let the pain of all your deaths be upon his head!** ”

“Try me,” Tobirama growled under his breath, for all the good he knew it would do him. He was no hero, no sorcerer of great power, but he was prepared to give his life if it kept Madara from falling back in to such a bleak existence. 

Hashirama pressed in close to his other side with a faint whimper. “What do we do, Anija?” 

“Whatever we must,” was all the answer he had. 

Before Madara could express the panic that answer had clearly inspired in him, ever afraid of asking others to fight his battles for him, yet another guard in a shiny tin suit came to a clattering halt at the edge of their group. Suits of armor looked nice but Tobirama had always wondered if they could really be all that effective. Surely the weight of them was hampering at the very least. After throwing a quick salute to his king the soldier rattled off his brief report in a sharp yet bemused tone. 

“Your majesty, another approaches from the west.” 

“Another what?” the king demanded. His soldier blinked, eyes canting off to one side. 

“Unclear, sire. This new figure wears a cloak and appears to be travelling alone. Captain Hikaku commanded me to inform you at once.”

“Just wonderful. We’ve already got one crazy witch at the gates and now it looks like she’s brought reinforcements.” Pausing to tug fitfully at the end of his ponytail in a most unlordly manner, King Izuna turned to Madara. “You may return to the safety of your rooms, little brother. I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to prevent you being torn from my side again.”

With that he spun - possibly a little high on the drama of their circumstance - and followed the soldier back to wherever this Captain Hikaku was. Madara waited until the two of them were out of sight around a corner before snorting indelicately. “Like hell!” he grumbled. 

It was hardly surprising that after a lifetime of idling in a tower alone, ignorant of the world outside the two or three rooms where he spent all his time, waiting here to be rescued again would not sit well with him. Tobirama only wished he could think of a good reason to keep his beloved away from danger, something more substantial than ‘I cannot lose you too’. Unfortunately something very close to raw panic had wiped all coherent thoughts from his mind and left him with nothing to do but follow when Madara darted after the king. Hashirama whimpered but followed as well, gripping tightly when Tobirama reached a hand back to grasp one of his with as much reassurance as he could muster. For the moment he had nothing else to give.

The halls were colder at night, breath escaping them only to hang in the air as ephemeral clouds of puffy white there and gone as the three of them hurried through the maze of twisting corridors. Each of the windows passing them by gave flashes of the world outside. Stars dotted the sky and the moon hung full and heavy above them, shedding what meager light she could on the scene down in the massive courtyard where row upon row of armored knights stood with swords drawn. 

Kaguya looked upon the ring of steel surrounding her with little more than indifference. Her unearthly face was pinched with irritation bordering on rage and yet there was an air of eternal patience about her, almost as though she were prepared to wait until the very castle walls had crumbled around them to get what she wanted. From what Tobirama knew of her through his partner he knew that such patience was a front meant to frighten those facing her. Sustained all these years by the innate magic running through Madara’s veins, she was no more immortal than anyone else. More powerful, yes. Able to take lives, surely and without hesitation. But mortal. It didn’t take a genius to see why she wouldn’t want all the angry men with oversized knives around her to know that running her through with any one of them would have been surprisingly effective. He wondered what her reaction would be when she discovered that Madara’s hair had been cut down to lessen his power, no longer able to sustain her life as it once had.

Seeing her standing so tall after all the hurt she had caused melted the panic in Tobirama’s chest, replacing it with the hot sting of impotent rage. What could he do against someone with her power? Very little, to his shame, but that did nothing to take away his base urge to race down in to the courtyard and take up a sword of his own. Her mortality was no true advantage if he couldn’t get near enough to slide cold steel through yielding flesh. She would blast him away before he could get anywhere close. 

“Is that her?” Hashirama whispered as though she might hear them even from this distance. His question reminded Tobirama that his brother had never seen the woman who so drastically changed all of their lives. 

“Yeah.” Madara swallowed audibly. “That’s her.”

Tobirama squeezed their entwined fingers in comfort. “Anyone have any ideas on how to kill a century old witch?” 

“Lock her in a dungeon and forget to feed her?” Madara suggested. 

“We’ll keep that as a backup plan. I think we should probably concentrate first on the ‘getting her in to the dungeon’ step.”

“Right. No ideas over here then.” 

Unsurprised, Tobirama looked out the window again as though inspiration were outside waiting for his eyes to pass over it. All he saw was the same beautiful, terrifying woman standing with her chin lifted and her eyes as hard as flint, determination clear in every disgustingly elegant line of her body. He watched as one of the soldiers dared to approach only for Kaguya to lift a hand and call down a bolt of lightning from the perfectly clear sky above them. The man was dead before he hit the ground. As they watched all the other soldiers drew back, keeping formation while also hopefully keeping themselves out of the line of fire. 

Every moment that passed without some amazing fantastical idea occurring smothered the light of hope inside more and more until the edges of despair began to slowly creep in - and that, of course, was the moment they were all forcibly reminded of the second figure approaching. Robed in black as they were, it was easy to look instead to the shining white of Kaguya, wrapped in a purity she didn’t deserve. In one swift movement the black robe was cast aside and then it felt impossible to look anywhere else. 

Hair so red the two buns she had caught it up in looked like blossoming flowers cradling a headdress strongly resembling a crown of gold, the woman revealed carried herself with so much elegance as to make Kaguya look almost slumped in comparison. Rather than leap to aid the witch as expected, however, her expression of contempt was visible even from inside the castle where Tobirama was forced to snatch his brother by the collar lest he fall out the window, so intent was he on staring.

“Wow,” his little sibling whispered. “She’s...she’s pretty…”

Before Tobirama could say anything in return the woman raised a single graceful hand to point at Kaguya accusingly. 

“Who are you to strike down a man so easily?” she demanded. Kaguya, apparently, was not pleased to have her motivations questioned. 

“ **I will have what is mine!** ” Kaguya screeched. The newcomer was unimpressed.

“You will speak at a normal volume,” she snapped. 

Amazingly, it worked. Reacting perhaps unconsciously to such a strong note of command, Kaguya huffed but spoke in a voice closer to human decibels. “They hide from me that which I have coveted for more than twenty years. He is mine and I will see him returned to me or I will see this entire city burn!” 

“Human lives cannot be owned,” the newcomer said. Dismissing Kaguya with a delicate sniff, she turned her gaze to the soldiers standing at the ready with weapons drawn and to the king marching his way across the courtyard, face stiff with determination. “What say all of you? Have you taken someone precious to this woman?” 

“The king’s brother does not belong to you!” One of them dared to shout. 

“You were the one who stole him!” Another shouted. 

“Witch!” several cried. “Evil witch! We will protect the king’s brother!” 

Kaguya hissed and the expression fit oddly well on such a comely face. “I was the one who fed him and changed him. I was the one who kept him safe in that tower! I deserve to keep him! **Come out to me Madara! I grow weary of waiting!** ” 

More than familiar with his partner’s temperament and all the ways he had been changed by freedom, Tobirama wrenched his fingers out of Hashirama’s grasp just in time to clap them over Madara’s face and muffle the indignant ‘Like hell!’ that would have drawn attention to them in an instant. He got the tips of several digits bitten for his troubles but held firm. For now the narrow windows helped conceal their position but if Kaguya were to spot them there was no telling how much destruction she could cause in her efforts to capture the one she came for. Such were his thoughts until the red-haired woman pursed her lips in a frown that somehow only managed to sharpen her iron beauty. 

“I grow weary of you,” she retorted. 

There was no more warning given than that. Kaguya shrieked as her entire body was swallowed up in a sphere of cloudy darkness. Several minutes passed in which they were all treated to ear-wrenching screams until finally bone white hands tore the shadows apart like so much flimsy material. Her retaliation was to call the same lightning with which she had struck down the poor soldier still laid out upon the cold cobblestones. And her curses of rage when the attack was brushed aside with an absent flick of two fingers would have been musical if it weren’t so horrifying. 

" **Burn!** ” Her command was followed by a sheet of multi-hued flames - then the shrieking began anew as they were extinguished with a casual flood of water summoned from nowhere. Rather than waste her energy with useless words the second woman merely lifted a single eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. 

Attacks of a magnitude no one else could fully understand flowed back and forth, beams of light and chunks of the earth itself flying through the air, and with each one Kaguya’s rage grew louder as she failed to gain the upper hand. Whoever this other woman was, she was clearly a class above the witch who had haunted so many nightmares for so long. Yet it wasn’t until Kaguya landed a blow at last that they were treated to the sight of true power. It wasn’t a fatal blow, not even a particularly serious one, but as she wiped a few droplets of blood from her cheek the red-haired woman narrowed her eyes and it was as if the very air around them held its breath. 

Both of her petite hands blurred as they drew patterns in the air before her. When she released the spell chains of brilliant gold burst from the earth to weave themselves in to complicated patterns around Kaguya and all the while glowing so brightly that Tobirama instinctively moved the hand still over his partner’s mouth upwards to cover his eyes instead. The silence that stretched out then seemed to last forever. It took some time for vision to return to them all, countless eyes blinking wildly until the afterimages finally cleared and they were able to see what remained. 

Very little, as it turned out. Where Kaguya had stood there was now little more than a light dusting of soot in the shape of two small footprints. Several guardsmen inched forward with shaking weapons held out, visibly terrified yet going to their duty anyway in the name of king and country. Tobirama silently commended them for their bravery - even if he could see from afar that it was unnecessary. 

“Where is she?” King Izuna’s voice cut through the silence. “Find her! She will pay for her crimes against my brother!” 

“She has already paid the ultimate price,” the remaining woman informed him in ringing tones. She stepped towards him with such a smooth gait she almost appeared to glide across the cobblestones until one of the soldiers had the audacity to bar her way. Her response was to simply pause and stare him down. It took less than half a minute for the man to shiver and stand aside.

“I will not ask again; where is she?” 

The woman cast her gaze about the courtyard disinterestedly. “In the House of the Dead.”

“Oh.” That certainly brought the king up short. He chewed that over for a moment, probably comparing the results against his thirst for vengeance, until finally he offered a gracious nod. “You have my thanks. Might I know the name of the one who came to our aid?” 

From their vantage point Tobirama could see him actually flinch away when she gave him a flat look. 

“My actions were not for your benefit. She angered me. It is scum like her that give the rest of us with magical talents a bad name and so I delivered to her the end she deserved. The fact of her attacking your people had very little to do with it.” Her piece spoken, she moved to step around him, pausing unhappily when he threw out an arm.

“I asked your name. And I am not accustomed to being dismissed so easily.” 

“Then perhaps a touch of humility will do your soul some good.” Looking up at the castle, she sighed. “Very well. If it is so important to you, my name is Uzumaki Mito. The spirits tell me there is something important here that I must find so if you would be so kind as to remove yourself from my way I would very much like to find it and be gone. It appears my welcome here is as tenuous as your gratitude.”

Watching the king splutter indignantly was one of the more satisfying things in Tobirama’s life, though he didn’t have much time to enjoy it. He was occupied rather quickly with catching his little brother as Hashirama fell in to a deep swoon and at the same time trying to keep an eye on Madara, making sure his partner didn’t hurt himself as he broke in to a distinctly ungraceful victory dance, howling his animal joy for all to hear. Such a sight filled Tobirama’s heart with more joy than he could hope to hold inside of him. It spilled across his face in the shape of a wide smile just barely hesitant around the edge, one he hid in the sheet of his brother’s long hair while helping the man regain his feet. 

“Did you see her?” Hashirama murmured dazedly. 

“The way she blasted that hag off the face of the planet?” Madara crowed. “You bet your ass I did!” 

“What a woman...”

Since he himself could not be considered any sort of authority on women, Tobirama chose not to add his own comments to that. Instead he leaned his brother up against the closest wall and made sure he wouldn’t fall over before turning to his partner. 

The moment he was facing the man with both arms free Madara was gripping his hands and dragging him along in the unrefined jigging. Round and round in circles they capered until the hallway itself almost seemed to be spinning and all the while grinning like a pair of madmen. For once in his life Tobirama couldn’t bring himself to worry about dignity, about how silly he would look if someone else were to happen upon the scene they were making of themselves. Madara was free. Well and truly free with no reason to fear that he would ever have to go back to a life of imprisonment, his mind unburdened for the very first time. 

“Dead! She’s dead! Got what she deserved, ha! Take that, you slimy pustule of a crone!” 

“I hate to interrupt this moment for you,” Tobirama said with a grin, “but if you spin me too much more I’m going to throw up.”

“Me too!” Despite that admission he continued to caper about even after letting go, dancing around on his own. 

Tobirama put one hand bracingly against the side of his head and peered out the window at the remains of the darkness that had been hanging over their heads for the past few months. She was gone. Well and truly gone. It was hard to believe how many things had happened in the last twenty four hours, all of them life-changing, and how very little effort it had taken from him in the end to give his beloved partner everything he’d ever wanted in life. 

Actually there was a very small part of him disappointed that he hadn’t really made any contribution to that at all but a man had to be big enough to recognize his own idiocies. 

Down in the courtyard both the king and their mysterious savior had both disappeared, ostensibly running about somewhere inside the castle, leaving dozens upon dozens of men and women in metal suits all staring at each other for a loss of what to do now. One of them seemed to have thoughtfully fetched a broom but hadn’t yet dared to approach the innocuous sooty remains. For the most part they all looked to be more interested in gossiping and recounting the details of what had just happened before their very eyes. It was understandable. By necessity those with magic generally tended to conceal their talents from their mundane and very suspicious neighbors. One powerful witch was more than many would meet in a lifetime and they had all seen two today; not only that but they had witnessed a magical battle with their very own eyes, brief though it had been. This was definitely one of those events that would necessitate a rash of ‘you had to be there’ statements across the capitol.

“I wonder where she went,” Hashirama sighed. 

“Down to _hell_!” Madara snickered, earning a horrified gasp from the other. 

“Not her! I mean the pretty one - Mito? Was that her name? Gosh, it’s as pretty as she is.” 

“Go tell her that then, I’ve got more important things to think about.” With a manic look in his eye he turned to demand of Tobirama, “How many devils do you think it’ll take to torture a soul that’s already as evil as hers?” 

Tobirama said nothing. He had never been more in love. 

Or rather, he didn’t say anything because he didn’t have much time to. He still hadn’t entirely processed the sight of Madara so happy when the sound of rapid footsteps caught his attention. One set clicked with every step as though the soles of their shoes were made of something hard while the other whispered along on booted feet barely audible under the echoing _tap-tap-tap_ of the first. They were approaching quickly from somewhere out of sight and Tobirama, out of some base instinct built from years of being responsible for another’s life, moved to stand closest to the bend in the hallway where anyone approaching would meet him first.

He was glad that he had when two people rounded the corner and the first thing he saw was an expression of steely determination on a woman he’d just watched obliterate another with barely any effort. Mito paused to survey the three of them critically. When she made as though to step in his little brother’s direction Tobirama was quick to move himself in to her path, doing his best not to quake with nerves too obviously. 

“Oh do get out of the way,” she tutted at him. 

“Can I help you?” he asked blandly without moving. Mito narrowed her eyes with annoyance. A lesser man would have wet his trousers under that look even without having witnessed recent events. Thankfully for his pride, Tobirama had better control of his bladder than that. It did take a concerted effort to keep breathing, though. 

The fire building in her eyes dissipated when she looked over his shoulder to the man gawking back at her as though she were a goddess come to earth. She fell utterly still. After a few seconds of waiting tersely Tobirama realized he was fairly sure both of them had forgotten anyone else was even there. Hashirama crouched on the floor with the wall holding him up and Mito stood a dozen or so feet away, their eyes locked, entire conversations passing between them without a single word spoken. If not for King Izuna over her shoulder giving the both of them strange looks Tobirama might have wondered if he were misinterpreting something. 

Seemingly oblivious to whatever seemed to be happening, Madara ended his victory jig at last and dashed over to startle Mito by grabbing her hand in both of his own then pumping it up and down.

“I don’t really know how to say ‘thanks for killing the witch who made my life hell and kept me imprisoned for twenty years’ so I guess a handshake’s got to do it. Thanks!” The grin on his face was mad and didn’t fade in the least when all Mito did was stare back at him with a flabbergasted expression. A moment later he was darting away again to continue his celebration. “Woo! Dead!”

“Not entirely dead,” Mito eventually managed to correct him. Madara stopped cold in his tracks. 

“She’s…?”

“I sealed her within the House of the Dead. She has not truly perished but hers will no longer be a happy existence.”

“That’s good enough for me!” Madara cackled. “Better even!”

With a slow nod Mito’s eyes slid back to Hashirama. “Forgive my forwardness but the spirits led me here with the promise of great purpose. I sense that purpose in you. What is your name?” 

“You’re pretty!” The poor man clapped both hands over his mouth in time with Tobirama clapping one over his eyes with shame. 

“Honest words will get you very far; I find you quite fetching myself. My name is Mito,” she said with a not so subtle hint of expectation. Thankfully for Tobirama’s general level of familial shame, the hint was taken quickly. 

Springing up from the floor brought him right up against Tobirama’s back where he peered over one shoulder with an oddly shy expression. “Your name’s as lovely as you are,” Hashirama swooned. “My name’s Hashirama. What, ah, what do you mean by a great purpose in me? I’m really not all that great.” 

Contrary to his assertions, it seemed Mito thought he was pretty great already. Standing directly in between the two of them rather quickly grew awkward as Tobirama was gifted the dubious honor of a front row seat to some terrible flirting. Or at least the flirting was terrible on one side. Judging by how often he stumbled over his words Hashirama had apparently forgotten how to use his own tongue. Mito, by contrast, was the very picture of smooth confidence as she wrapped poor Hashirama around each and every one of her delicate fingers with well placed compliments and coy little smiles. 

Before his breakfast decided to revolt back up from his belly Tobirama struggled out from his brother’s clutches and stepped away to the king’s side, wanting to go to Madara but not willing to disturb his celebrations yet. Standing with his monarch and possible future brother-in-law was also awkward but it was at least a step up from standing in the middle of some fairy tale romance come to life. Mito glossed over the fact that she and Hashirama were fated by the spirits to fall in love almost incidentally as though it were of less importance than devouring him with her eyes and asking about his hair care regimen. After only a few moments watching from afar grew just as stomach churning as being stuck in the epicenter of all that romance. Turning to the man at his side, Tobirama cleared his throat. 

“The man who fell, is he…?”

“Gone.” The king shook his head. “I’ve sent for his family to come and claim his body. He’ll be given a funeral with full honors.”

“Honor doesn’t do the dead much good,” Tobirama said dubiously. 

“No, not really, but it comforts the living. That’s all we can do.” 

A moment passed in which they both sighed, sparing brief thoughts for their own losses and the comforts they had clung to in times of despair. Tobirama was the first to shake away the past and focus on things present around them. “I hope you’ve doubled the patrols and all that. Seems to me Kaguya reached the castle quite easily; if you want to protect him then I would suggest you beef up security around here.” 

Instead of answering with words the king only gave him a withering look that Tobirama haughtily pretended not to see. He wasn’t sure he liked this man but he wasn’t going to be the one to start any unnecessary fights. There was no need to put Madara in the middle of anything so petty, not when he finally had a chance to build the family he’d always been without. Unfortunately cooperating promised to create all sorts of opportunities for discomfort, as he realized watching his partner finally lose some energy in his dancing. 

“You’re going to have some kind of celebration about this, aren’t you?” Tobirama asked with dread. 

“Of course. My lost brother back at my side, the witch who took him from me knocking elbows with the dead, that’s cause for a feast if I’ve ever heard one!” 

“Ugh.” 

With Madara as the guest of honor there was no doubt that Tobirama himself would be dragged in to attending. Besides the fact that he had no idea where he would find clothes fancy enough or how he would afford them, forcing him in to a room filled with courtiers and nobles could only be a recipe for disaster. He might as well start planning out escape routes now for when he inevitably offended some hoity toity idiot who had never done a hard day’s work in their life. There were very good reasons he usually avoided the gentry. He didn't exactly have a lot in common with them - and he’d never really been the type to hold his thoughts in for too long no matter how often he coached Hashirama to do so. 

At last tired of his dancing and punching imaginary witches in the air, Madara came over with flagging steps to lean up against Tobirama’s side. He didn’t seem to notice the king eyeing them with traces of jealousy.

“This is the second best day of my entire life,” Madara announced. 

“Not the best?” The king sounded incredulous, almost insulted. Tobirama very carefully did not smile. 

“It’s a close second but I’d rank the day Tobirama took me out of that tower for the first time as the best day of my life. Mostly because that was the day I actually got to start _having_ a life.”

He purred unashamedly when Tobirama reached up to stroke his cheek. “And now you are completely free. You’ll never have to fear her again.” 

“Mm. Did I thank the lady?” 

“Yes, I believe you did.”

“Good, good. Was nice of her to kill that bitch. I’m tired.”

“No doubt. You can’t have gotten very much sleep before this whole episode and then of course you went and expended all that energy twiddling around like a child.” Tobirama smiled when his partner attempted to smack him for the jibe, succeeding only in a light swat against his belly. 

He looked up again to see that Hashirama was still deep in conversation with the witch Mito, his eyes so full of stars he might be mistaken for the night sky itself. Disturbing whatever was happening between the two of them felt almost cruel but it would be for the best if he dragged everyone to bed now. Gathering arguments in his head, he gently called out for his brother’s attention, doing his best not to laugh when it took several attempts for the words to get through. 

“We should all get some sleep,” he said once the two of them finally realized that other people still existed in the universe. Hashirama’s whine of protest came as no surprise. 

“But-!”

“Look at it this way, little one. If you get just a little more sleep tonight then you’ll be awake and fresh to speak with Lady Mito again tomorrow.” 

That did the trick. Almost immediately Hashirama was falling all over himself to bid Mito goodnight and wish her the sweetest of dreams. She watched him patter off down the hallway with a besotted smile and in that moment of distraction Tobirama took his chance at last to really study her features. He was startled to realize that she was younger than him, probably younger than Hashirama even, less a woman and more of a girl. To wield such power at an age like hers must come with many fascinating stories about her life. If he could ever convince the pair of them to look at anything but each other he would love to hear those stories some time; it might be nice to learn about a witch that wasn’t mired in evil deeds. 

“Oh, hold on.” Madara yawned even as he tottered over towards Mito and held out a hand with several locks of his own lengthy hair gathered in a loose grip. “It’s not much of a thanks but it’ll do for now.” With that he pressed his hair against a startled Mito’s cheek. When he pulled away the small cut there was healed completely. She brushed her fingers against the smooth skin with awe in her eyes. 

“You have some magical talent,” she noted. Madara shook his head. 

“Not really, just some weird hair.” 

“Blessed,” the king cut in with a rapturous expression. “You were blessed as a naming gift by a sorcerer whose life our mother once saved. And now there can truly be no doubt; you _are_ Uchiha Madara, Prince of Konoha, my brother. My heart knew you the moment I saw your face.” 

Yet another question answered, if one of the less important ones. Knowing the why and how of Madara’s magical hair had always been far down on the list of things he wanted to find out, though it was good to have an explanation for it. Since they could all plainly see the emotions rising on the man’s face Madara allowed his brother to give him a quick hug just to get it all out before squirming away and announcing that he really was ready for bed now. 

Abandoning the king to offer their savior accommodations for the night, Tobirama led his two most precious people away back down the hall. Hashirama babbled the whole time about the sound of Mito’s voice, the color of her eyes, the grace of her movements; he even claimed that he could taste the spark of her power in the air. He sounded so happy that interrupting him felt almost cruel and so they let him go on until he was standing in the doorway of his rooms with a beatific smile. 

“Everything turned out, didn’t it Anija?” he asked. 

“It seems that way,” Tobirama agreed. 

“Do you think Mito will want to talk to me tomorrow to? Do you think she would like to go for a walk? Do you think the castle has gardens we can visit? Oh that would just be so nice, looking at all the pretty flowers with her! I’ll bet she’s prettier than all of them.”

“Go to sleep, little one, and you can ask about gardens in the morning.” 

Hashirama was still beaming when he snapped the door shut, through which the sound of his feet could be heard scurrying away. In age he might have been a couple of years past his adolescence but emotionally he would forever be as excitable as a small child. 

Alone at last, Tobirama led Madara onward in the search for their own apartments. The castle was a big place and although they knew their door was somewhere in this hallway they had a little trouble remembering exactly which one it was. By the time they found it Madara’s steps were dragging and both of them were cracking their jaws on wide yawns they couldn’t suppress. As the adrenaline of the night’s events faded their bodies began to protest louder and louder about the lack of time they’d had to sleep until even Tobirama could feel his steps growing a little wobbly. 

Falling on to the bed together was the sweetest relief, doubly so when the bed was of such fine make it felt very similar to what Tobirama imagined lying on a cloud would be like. His eyes fell closed immediately but he smiled a bit when he felt Madara wriggling away the last of his energy. The moment that final celebratory dance was finished his partner was plastered over his chest and snuggling up under his chin. 

“Comfortable?” he asked with a smile. 

“Oh yeah. I’m sure freedom is going to feel very comfortable.”

Tobirama shook his head. “Not to mention the perks of having royalty for a brother. If you spend any significant amount of time here you’re going to get spoiled and then what sort of comfort could you possibly find in my humble little shack?”

He gave vent to an indelicate snort that hurt almost as much as the impact when Madara suddenly butted up against the bottom of his chin, smashing his teeth together.

“Don’t be stupid,” came the demand from somewhere against his chest. “If I’m moving anywhere then I’m taking both of you idiots with me and if Izuna doesn’t like it then he can kiss my ass goodbye. We’re a package deal. You should know that by now.” 

“After so long wishing you knew what happened to your family you’d say goodbye to him so easily?” 

“I’d say goodbye to anyone who tried to take me away from you.” 

In an effort not to focus on how mushy that made him feel inside, Tobirama chose instead to run his fingers through the long tangled hair spilling over them both like a blanket. “So? What’s the plan? Now that we know she’s not out there somewhere the world is at your beck and call. You could go anywhere, see anything, visit any country. What’s next in the saga of Uchiha Madara, the lost prince of Konoha?” 

“Sleep,” Madara grunted. A beat of silence passed before he quietly added, “I don’t really know. I’m happy about it all, this is everything I’ve ever wanted, but I think it’s going to take a while before it really sinks in. Until then I’ll probably still be looking for shadows over my shoulder.”

“Yes, I know what you mean.”

Words faded away and the two of them lay still in the darkness for so long that Tobirama thought his partner had fallen asleep until Madara spoke up again in quiet tones. 

“Doesn't really matter what happens I guess. You and Hashirama will be here with me anyway - and Izuna too now. That's the most important part.”

“You’re right,” Tobirama agreed. “We’re not going anywhere.” 

“Good. Now shut up and let me sleep so I can go outside tomorrow and run cartwheels over that bitch’s ashes until I pass out again.” Madara snuggled in closer with a contented sigh, refusing to comment when the ribs he was pillowed against began twitching with silent laughter. 

“That does sound like fun.”

And it did, though not nearly as fun as spending the rest of their lives together, happy and free, as they were always meant to be. 


End file.
